


Offer

by claro



Series: What we could have been [9]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-14
Updated: 2018-08-14
Packaged: 2019-06-27 04:36:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15678138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/claro/pseuds/claro
Summary: Sherlock offers something unexpected.





	Offer

'I have to say I don't know how you do it,' Greg Lestrade shook his head as he grinned down at his six month old nephew who was giggling as he was bounced on Greg's knee, 'Six kids. Fuck.'

'Don't swear infront of Ptolemy!' Sherlock snapped.

'I still can't believe you called him that,' Greg laughed.

'I think you'll find that his real name is Green Bean.' Bill set down the tea tray he had carried in, 'And he's almost rolling over.'

Greg's grin grew wider, 'That's brilliant!'

'He's behind in meeting his milestones,' Bill admitted, and then with a soft squeeze of Sherlock's knee and a gentle smile, 'But he is meeting them.'

Long before Ptolemy had been born Bill and Sherlock had been preparing for the difficulties he may face in life. Mycroft had too, although whether Sherlock knew that or not, Greg didn't know. But he DID know that there was a rather sizable fund set aside for any future care the new addition to their family may need. Mycroft did what he always did when he worried - he did everything he could to make things easier, even if it wasn't immediately obvious.

'Speaking of green beans, where are the others?'

'Board meeting,' Sherlock waved his hand dismissively, but Greg caught the alarmed jerk of Mycroft's body.

Greg nodded and shook his head dramatically at Ptolemy who laughed and offered a wet hand to Greg.

'It's fine. What's the worst they can do?'

The silence that followed would echo in his nightmares for months. Eventually after long minutes Greg swallowed and shifted slightly.

'If we can all pretend I didn't say that....'

There were smiles, fake, but making the effort, and attention turned back to the baby.

'Won't be long before this one is active in The Firm,' Greg said, using the name that Beatrice and Hamish had adopted years before.

'Well, I dunno if he'll-'

'Of course he will!' Sherlock cut across Bill, his jaw tight and his gaze focused on a spot on the far wall.

Bill turned to his husband and passed him a cup of tea, 'I was going to say I don't know if he'll grow up to be a little criminal like his siblings. Statistically we should have at least one law abiding child, might as well be Green Bean.'

As Sherlock glanced back at Bill, Greg was right there to see the open and raw emotions that flowed between the two men. When Bill smiled, Sherlock smiled. When Sherlock worried, Bill was often the only one who noticed, so good at hiding himself was Sherlock. And when Bill was there Sherlock was....different. Soft looks, slight gestures of affection, a smile returned, a blush after an in joke. But more than that, he'd been there just after his nephews and nieces were born, he had seen the way Sherlock had looked at Bill, as if seeking his approval, and it had broken his heart every time. But it had immediately swelled when the midwife looked at his husband, exhausted, sweaty, bloody and grey, holding their babies so gently and so close, and Greg knew he had never, and would never see anyone with such open love and pride and adoration on their face.

Bill had been a surprise. At first Greg, and Mycroft by default, hadn't been sure what to make of him. He was young, enthusiastic and energetic. He was the exact opposite of the people Sherlock normally attracted and was attracted to. He was full of good opinions about everyone, including Sherlock, which seemed to confuse the consulting detective. He seemed to see the opportunity in everything, like the holiday to Devon which was postponed because Sherlock was called to give evidence at a trial and so Bill had borrowed a tent and slipped a warden a hundred quid so they could camp out in Regent's Park instead. When the kitchen was full of dubious beakers and the kettle had something brown inside it, instead of shouting Bill saw it as a good reason to order in and after dinner he would sit and sip his wine as he watched Sherlock work. When Sherlock was deep in the middle of a case and lost in his mind palace, Bill would sort the children, feed, clothe, homework, and call in favours from either Mrs Hudson or Greg to either keep them for the night or do the school run as Bill called his staff and offered generous incentives to swap shifts so he could be there to tend to Sherlock while he was lost in his own thought process. Not that any of Bill's staff needed incentive. 

Greg had given birth three times on William Murray's ward. And he had been treated there twice more after a loss. He had been there when most of Sherlock's children had arrived. He himself had been treated there when Mary Morsten kicked him down the stairs and they thought he was losing Beatrice.

What had struck him was how CALM everyone on that ward was. As a policeman he'd seen many, many hospital wards, and as a parent he'd seen more. But there was no running, no shouting, no arguing. The midwives were calm and kind, the porters and auxiliaries wore smiles and seemed to have an endless supply of boiled sweets and biscuits. If he hadn't seen it in action for himself he would have scoffed. But he had been on the receiving end of Bill's 'of course you can! It's a piece of piss! Do you want a sherbet lemon?' attitude, all delivered with a smile and an aura of reassurance that it would be okay.

He was the polar opposite of the only other man Sherlock had seemed to love. Greg and Mycroft had many quiet conversations about that over the years, and neither thought that Bill would stick around, Mycroft believing that he would run out of patience with Sherlock once he knew his true ways, and Greg thinking Bill would bolt when he met the rest of the Holmes family.

But he had stayed. 

In fact he had stayed on that first night. Sherlock was in labour and Bill was at the end of his twelve hour shift. But Sherlock had asked him to stay. So Bill had stayed. He'd worked seventeen hours straight by the point he left for home. But he came back first thing in the morning with coffee and pastries and had watched Hamish in wonder and he'd made Sherlock laugh. And then....he kept coming back. Professional check ups became coffee, which became walks, proudly showing off baby Hamish. Slowly it became lunch, then dinners and then staying over - on the sofa - until....Hamish was six months old the first time Mycroft reported that Bill had stayed in Sherlock's room. Which was brilliant news and also quite creepy at the same time.

Bill, he knew, was not like John.

John Watson would have shouted. He would have complained about the mess, ranted and stormed about. He would have blamed Sherlock for the missed holiday. He wouldn't tolerate his bed being invaded by several children every night, and he wouldn't have allowed any of the name choices Sherlock had made.

And it had been Sherlock who had made most of them, Greg knew, having witnessed it first hand when Sherlock had given birth to Vivienne on the kitchen floor and he and Mycroft had arrived just as the doctor had.

'You pick,' Bill had whispered as he pressed a kiss to Sherlock's temple.

'But you might not like-'

'I will like anything you chose,' Bill had stroked his hand across the babies head, without ever breaking eye contact with Sherlock.

'Vivienne?'

Bill had bitten his lip, 'What does it mean?'

'Alive.'

Nineteen years after Sherlock had met Bill they had six children, Hamish (supplanter, and Christ he'd done that in so many ways), Angus (strength), Vivienne (alive), Manus (great), Allegra (happy) and now Ptolemy (warrior). Of course Violet Holmes had screwed her face at every choice, but Bill had waved her off. 

Of course, what The Firm called them was completely different.

'Six is a rather impressive number, brother dear,' Mycroft said softly as he poured milk into his tea, 'Are there to be....a seventh?'

At this Sherlock and Bill exchanged glanced and for a reason he didn't know Greg's heart started to beat faster.

'No. I belive we are done.' Sherlock sipped his tea.

'I had the snip.' Bill volunteered rather less eloquently.

Over the years Greg had tried not be jealous of Sherlock's ease with pregnancies. He'd lost Laurence, and then between Beatrice and the twins he'd lost two more. The HG he'd suffered with the twins had left him with life altering heart and organ problems. It was a constant struggle to tamp down his jealousy of Sherlock's pregnancies. He and Mycroft had wanted a large family. He had wanted the six or maybe seven children. And more than that, Mycroft had wanted it, he never said, but Greg could see his pain.

'And we wanted to talk to you about that,' Bill said, as Ptolemy reached out for his father and he scooped him up.

'If you are looking a reversal then my cont-'

'I'm not!' Bill assured. Then he looked to Sherlock and gave him a soft smile, 'Six is more than enough. More than we ever thought. Christ....' Bill took a breath, 'We know you wanted a big family, and.....well I was there, so....' he looked to Sherlock again, who nodded. Bill returned the smile before he carried on, 'I'm Greg's midwive so I know about...everything. BUT...I know how much you have wanted more children, and I know, trust me I know, why Greg can't do that....but....' Bill paused to give his youngest child a kiss on the head, 'But..,.Lock and I have talked, and...well, it was his idea. But, just so you know, I am totally on board because-'

'Bill and I are offering to have a child for you.'

In the silence that followed Bill Murray sighed deeply and then, ignoring the two stunned men sitting opposite, turned to his husband, 'Seriously? That's the way you are telling them?'

Greg shook his hand, 'Hang on, WHAT...?'

Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Bill put a hand on his husbands knee to silence him.

'You've always wanted more children,' Bill said, painfully aware that he was using his 'professional' voice, 'But your medical history...'

Mycroft's hand was gripped tightly by Greg's.

'...Sherlock,' Bill said after a deep breath, 'Is pretty good at being pregnant.......he's also not a completely shitty brother.' Bill bit his lip and looked at Sherlock one more time, 'If you wanted then we'd be honored to be surrogates.'

Beside Greg Mycroft went still, his gaze focused on nothing and his hands clutched tight against his knees.

'We...' Bill glanced at Sherlock, 'We've talked about this. If...if you were....it would of course be properly done, Sherlock would just be a host...'

Greg Lestrade realised that Sherlock was staring right at his brother, who was returning the stare and there seemed to be some sort of silent conversation going on there and...fuck. A baby. A baby that was theirs.

'We wanted to offer.' Bill said.

'Why?' Greg couldn't help but ask.

The midwife shrugged, 'You wanted more kids. Sherlock likes being pregnant. I...' a slight cough and a fight to hide a smile, 'I REALLY like Sherlock when he's pregnant...look, talk about it. The offer is there.'

Greg nodded and let the conversation move on to something else. But as he and Mycroft left for home, seated opposite each other in the back of Mycroft's car, he searched the other man's face for an indication of how he was feeling. Mycroft turned his storm coloured eyes on Greg, soft and honest and let Greg see everything he was thinking. After so many years he had learned to read Mycroft Holmes the way the politician could read the whole world.

'A baby,' he breathed.

'It's a very selfless offer I must...' Mycroft trailed off and bit his lip, but even that did little to stop the smile that was pulling at his mouth. Greg found himself returning it, heart racing.

'A baby,' he repeated.

Mycroft nodded.

'So we're going to say yes?'

Mycroft's smile widened and he reached forward and took Greg's hands.

'Yes.'

'Yes.'


End file.
